


where war is no more

by silveronthetree



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Obi-Wan Needs a Hug, Satine lives AU, Shaving, kiss blocked by luke skywalker, lets ignore star wars technological advances for story reasons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2018-10-23 17:44:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10724148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silveronthetree/pseuds/silveronthetree
Summary: Obi-Wan needs a disguise and Satine just wishes he would smile again.AU where Satine survives and Obi-Wan goes on the run with her and Luke after Order 66.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Victoria P for all her encouragement and for betaing this <3

They escape the clone troopers by the skin of their teeth. They'd been targeted after Ben's hood slipped from his head on their way to the spaceport and she still isn't quite sure how they'd managed to lose them. For once in her life she'd just followed his lead. She can tell he's worried about being recognised again and he uses the last of their meagre supply of local credits to pick up shaving supplies in the busy shopping district. He lets go of the baby for the first time since he found her and leaves him with her, as he ducks into the public fresher to shave.

It is certainly effective as a disguise. Her eyes pass right over him when he returns, distracted by her nerves as she pretends to browse for clothes, and the unfamiliar weight of the baby sling across her chest. From a distance he looks like a boy again. It isn't until he is standing in front of her, reaching for the baby that she realises it is Ben. Up close, his eyes give his age away.

Once they are tucked away in the tiny cabin of the transport ship, Satine really looks at him. His face is tense, his mouth in a tight line. He's barely spoken in days, unless it is strictly necessary. He looks broken, full of still raw pain and exhaustion. She needs that look to go away.

"That's where that handsome face was hiding," she says, remembering their first parting as adults. She steps forward and cups his chin with her hand.

His smile doesn't quite reach his eyes despite his clear effort. 

"It makes me look like a child." He looks away to the baby—his name is Luke, she reminds herself—who is asleep on the bunk in a nest of blankets that look suspiciously like Obi-Wan's Jedi robe.

"People will accuse me of cradle robbing," she jokes. Hoping for a reaction. But there is a grain of truth in it. She feels as if she's aged years in the last few months.

He makes a face.

Her fingers catch on the stubble of his cheek as she strokes it. It's only been a few short hours and it's already growing back. It's a reminder that this isn't the Ben she'd known when his cheeks had been downy soft. When this action was full of teenage promise, and not weighted in years of sorrow.

There's a patch in the corner of his mouth where the shave isn't as close. "You missed a bit," she says as she rubs her thumb along it. "Out of practice?"

His mouth twitches in discomfort at the drag of her thumb. "I was in a hurry," he replies, covering her hand with his right hand, which is swathed in a bandage from the blaster burn he'd received days ago, and stilling the motion.  
.  
"I'll shave it for you next time," she says.

His cheeks colour. But he lets his hand fall away, and nods. 

That flush gives her a glimmer of hope. She hasn't kissed him since she left Mandalore, since the mad relief of survival, and she isn't sure if she can again, although she desperately wants to. There are so many unspoken promises between them. He'd come to her not long after his world had collapsed. She supposes his plan of waiting to leave the Order until the war was over is irrelevant now. He is one of the last of the Jedi. And she wonders what that means for _them_. They haven't spoken of the future, of anything more than the immediate moment. He's been so preoccupied with Luke and in getting them to safely, if such a thing exists.

She didn't want him like this. He didn't want her like this. With everything they were and everything they loved in ruins. But all she knows how to do is to snipe at him and tease him, because that's what they always did to hide what they felt. They can work this all out later. When they are somewhere safe.

She moves a little closer and his bandaged hand bumps her side in the narrow space. He sways into her and she hears his breath catch, and she wonders if at least one of her questions will be answered. Then the silence is broken. The baby cries out and Ben turns to him immediately.

She lets her hand drop and Ben steps away to attend to him.

This isn't the right moment.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took far longer to finish than I intended. Hopefully the final part won't take quite as long! 
> 
> Many thanks to [victoria_p](https://archiveofourown.org/users/musesfool/pseuds/victoria_p) for helping me figure out why I was stuck and for betaing it when I'd finished.

Satine opens bleary eyes as she hears movement in the cabin. She doesn't remember the last time she slept a whole night through and tonight was no exception. A sidelight floods everything a hazy gold, and when her eyes focus properly she can see Ben is pacing up and down with a grizzling Luke in his arms. 

Ben is fully dressed, so it must be what passes for morning on the transport. The floor squeaks with every lap of the cabin he makes. It's such a small space that the noise is frequent and startlingly loud in the silence of the night. No wonder it woke her. Ben's head is bent over, fully absorbed by the child in his arms, and he is humming under his breath. He's never done that before and she doesn't recognise the melody. His hands are so big in comparison with Luke's body, covering most of Luke's back, and the light glimmers off the fuzz on Luke's head and Ben's dishevelled hair. Scattered strands of silver she hadn't noticed before are visible in the polished copper of Ben's newly regrown beard. With the lock of hair flopping into his eye, he looks more like the man in the wanted holos that occasionally flash up in the transport's canteen than he has for days. 

"You must shave soon-" she tries to say but her throat is so dry that it comes out as a croak. Ben's head swivels to her, startled, and Luke hiccups and draws in a loud breath. She coughs and repeats herself. 

Ben frees his hand and rubs his unbandaged fingertips over his chin. "You're right." He frowns and flexes his damaged hand as if to test it. "I certainly can't go out there looking this recognisable." He adjusts the corner of Luke's blanket with a clumsy movement, and frowns when it slips back. He is usually so precise in everything he does. "Does your offer still stand?"

The offer to shave him had been a throwaway suggestion, but she nods. 

But when he says, "Satine?" she realises that he can't see her in the shadow of the top bunk.

"Of course," she says. How hard can it be? She's shaved her own legs a time or two and she has vivid teenage memories imprinted in her brain of watching Ben shave when they were first on the run. He may have more hair now, but it can't be that different. 

"Let me wake up properly first," she says, pushing back the covers. "I wouldn't want to damage that pretty face of yours." 

*

When Satine sees the shaving gear Ben has set out, she regrets the comment. The cream is familiar enough but the razor most certainly isn't. She'd known that their last stop had been a planet that tended to the archaic, but he'd picked this kit up at the spaceport. Despite her principles, Satine is a Mandalorian and she knows her way around blades, but shaving Ben with a straight metal razor--what has she has got herself into? 

"Tell me what to do," she says. She ties back her freshly clean hair.

Ben has used some of the cabin's limited supply of washing water on his face. They've been making liberal use of the sonic showers since they arrived--one of the few unrestricted things on the crowded transport; an effort to prevent disease spreading. It's so good to be clean, but there is nothing quite like the feeling of water. She envies him; memories of her earlier shower pale in comparison. Ben's face is flushed and a trail of water drips from his hair down his cheek. She watches it as it slides down his neck and it is finally lost when it meets the smattering of hair on his bare chest. Thankfully he's pulled on his trousers, so at least some of him is covered. She'd like to think she was used to a half-naked Ben after several days in close quarters, but it would be a lie. She drags her gaze away before he can catch her staring. 

He pulls the storage container they've been using as a seat in front of the mirror and sits down on it in front of her and explains what she needs to do. He sits with a wince and reaches behind her to grab a blanket, which he folds over the hard surface before he sits again. There is a small bowl of warm water next to him and he dampens his face again with one hand. 

It's her turn now. The space is small and there is little room to manoeuvre and she tries not to bump the furniture around her. She makes a lather with the cream and starts to spread it onto his face. The artificial scent of the cream is citrusy and surprisingly pleasant. 

The short bristles of hair prickle her fingers. She hasn't touched him this much in years. He jolts, almost imperceptibly, at her first touch and she can see him fighting to still himself. It doesn't take long for him to regain his composure. She massages the cream in, probably for longer than necessary. It's good to get his hair soft, it'll make the process easier. It isn't at all because she wants to linger with her hands on his face. 

He's still and controlled beneath her massaging hands and she's never cared for the expression that forms on his face, the one indicating that his thoughts have turned internal. She wants to break that control. But for once she knows that this is about something far bigger. She's scared that she'll lose him if he has to think now and that is more than she could bear. Ben's so closed off, he might implode at any time. There's so much she doesn't know about what's happened to him since they last met but he hasn't even mentioned the Jedi. It must be raw, so much newer than her pain. Mandalore is still there, there is some hope for her sister -- even though they don't want Satine or her help. 

Ben reaches forward and picks up the razor, and Satine can feel herself flush. It's a hint to get on with it. She is glad she isn't facing him and and that she's standing at  
the wrong angle for him to see her reflection in the mirror. 

"Hold my skin taut and shave in this direction." He indicates a line along his cheek. 

She touches him hesitantly, and he says, "Firmer." 

She repositions her fingers and he says, "Good." She lifts the blade and holds it a few inches away from his cheek. "Now angle the blade a little more. Yes." 

Satine closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, opens them again, and makes the first stroke. The hair parts from its roots more easily than expected, leaving behind bare pink skin. 

She gets the position of her hands right the next time and she gets the hint of a smile. It's mostly in his eyes and a quirk of the now clearly visible corner of his mouth. As she adjusts her hands after every stroke she can feel his smooth skin appearing beneath her fingertips. It's strange to look down on him like this. He is very still and so focussed.

She moves behind him to get the best angle. When she looks up she can see her face with his in the mirror. The face she sees every time she looks in a mirror still jolts her. It's more than just her changed appearance. She isn't sure who she is any more. Satine knew how to run but she'd never truly hidden, she'd always been herself as she ran. Now she doesn't have that luxury. 

She can feel the tension in the way Ben holds his head lessening as she works. Cupping his face and moving it to get the best angle, all she can smell is citrus and him. Luke burbles in his sleep from the bunk behind them. 

She's developed a rhythm. Shaving a stroke over his neck and rinsing the blade, over and over. As she slips the blade over Ben's bared throat. She thinks how much he must trust her to do this. There are so many things he will never tell her that relate to the secrets of others, but he trusts her fully with his body. 

If he leant back an inch, his head would be cradled against her breasts and she loves being this close to him. Her heart starts to pound and she catches his gaze in the mirror. She can hear the constant thrum of the transport but it isn't enough to hide the sound of her pulse. She makes a few more strokes and this time when she leans forward and rinses the blade, she lets her body brush him.

He doesn't react. 

It is getting awkward to reach where she wants and she makes a frustrated sound, and transfers the razor to her other hand as she shakes out her fingers.

Ben rolls his shoulders. "I think you might need to change position to shave my neck."

She comes round to his side and rinses off the foam, and then dampens his face before spreading on more cream. Ben swallows as Satine touches a particular spot on his neck. She spreads a little more cream over his cheek and then touches that spot again. His throat works again. She'll have to remember that.

"This is a tough spot," he says softly. "You'll needs to stretch my skin more." 

She does as he asks.

"Yeah. Like that." 

Her face is so close to his. If she learned forward, if he wasn't covered in foam, she could kiss him. Press her mouth to his chapped pink lips. 

His eyes are wide and they stare at each other. His blue, blue eyes. She feels almost foolish thinking it, but she wants to drown in their sad depths.

She remembers kissing his eyelids as a girl. Feeling his eyelashes fluttering against her face as she kissed or stroked his pale eyebrows, curious to discover everything about every part of him. She remembers sneaking away and stealing moments together. They were often silent when they were alone. So reluctant to talk as they knew anything could set off an argument, and that their raised voices would attract unwanted attention, whether from assassins or from Qui-Gon, who would separate them (or at least threaten to; there really wasn't space enough to keep them apart for long). It was rather a luxury to argue with Obi-Wan. 

She wonders if he is thinking the same thing. His eyes dip to her mouth for a second, before they meet hers. The noises of the transport fade away and all she can hear is the sound of her breathing. 

She holds his gaze as she sets a razor to his skin again and makes few smooth strokes. When she next rinses his face, she'll kiss him.

A loud wail shatters the quiet. Satine jumps and the carefully held razor jerks. Red blossoms slowly against the white foamy soap. 

Ben barely reacts but Satine's frozen horror transforms into fear. She must check for damage. But as she wipes away the soap to expose the small cut beneath it, her worry turns to anger. "Look what's happened," she snarls, waving the tool. "Why did you choose such a dangerous razor?"

Ben raises an eyebrow. "Blaming your tools?" She can practically hear the unsaid "poor craftsman," in his deeply sarcastic tone.

She scowls at him. It's the first time since they were reunited that he's responded to her anger with anything but resignation. Behind them, Luke is wailing constantly. Letting him cry for too long isn't wise. They're lucky that he's usually a quiet baby, but if they make too many disturbances, they'll have trouble from the other passengers. Extra attention is the last thing they need.

She can tell that Ben's attention is partly on Luke, willing him to stay quiet. "Blaming the one that provided them," she retorts. "You've always preferred things that cause bloodshed." 

"And you've always been full of unrealistic expectations." His eyes narrow, focussing on her hand. "You're the one with a blade in her hand."

Her grip on the razor loosens, and it falls with a splash into the bowl of shaving water, sending a wave of water over his robe. She stares at him mutely. Her horror must be plain on her face, and she's overcome by a desire to wail like Luke.

He sighs, and dabs at his wet arm. "It's just a nick, Satine." He starts to get up.

She takes a deep breath and turns to exit, to escape, but Luke starts to hiccup and before Ben reaches him, he quietens. 

Satine turns back to Ben. The bleeding has stopped, and he is regarding her with faint smile, slightly obscured by the white foam left on his face. He sits back down, fishes the razor out of the basin, and carefully pats it dry with the towel from his lap. 

He holds it out to her in his open palm. It feels like a peace offering. The horror fades with his smile and she takes it from him. 

She finishes shaving him in silence, slowly relaxing and redeveloping her smooth rhythm. That tension between them was destroyed by their sharp words, but she can't mourn it. This has been the first time she's raised her voice to him since they were reunited, since they'd exchanged harsh words. She's strangely comforted by the notion. It feels as if Ben's truly with her. Seeing Satine, not just someone in need of help. Maybe tomorrow will be the right time for more.


End file.
